fluidfaith   ver. 0.4.3

The Joy of Uncertainty 

Connor was born on December 26. Great birthday for tax breaks. Bad birthday for . . . well, birthdays. The upside: I get to count him as a dependent for all of 2003 even though we only had him for four days. The downside: he spends a lifetime having one of the most overlook-able birthdays on the calendar.

"Oh well, tough break, Kid. If it's any consolation, your Mom and I bought a hot tub with the tax return money." (Not really, of course. We bought diapers instead.)

So now we're starting to face the question of how to handle a birthday the day after Christmas. This year we decided we'd hold the actual celebration a few days after to get some distance from the whole manger menagerie. The cousins, aunt & uncle, and grandparents all came over to the house last night for dinner and cake and general frivolity and gift giving and worship. It was really good. Which means, of course, that my wife did a great job of planning and executing the whole affair.

The interesting thing was the way she handled the period of worship she'd planned as part of the gathering. This is an item on the agenda that is frequently handed off to me as part of her planning. But this time she handled it herself. The result was spectacular. Clearly, she had some things on her heart that could only be shared by her, in her words.

Two themes jumped out at me. First, was JOY. We haven't exactly had a lot of joy this past year. And yet, we've quite a nice dose of it. Connor's arrival in our lives was a "pleasant surprise." We had not planned for more children and received him as an unanticipated gift. The gloriousness of that gift has only been revealed this past year. Just as we began to walk through this dark and difficult phase of life -- this wilderness, this period of isolation and loneliness, this uncertain adventure in our post-churched life -- our son has hit that most joyful time of life. We call them the Terrific Twos. (The rest of you can mope and complain, if you like. But ours are delightful!) He's in that period of discovery where every word is like a ripened fruit, each new skill, new moment, new activity is a delight to behold. This is our joy.

Even now, as I write this he sits quietly on the floor in my "office" playing with his brother's unending collection of matchbox cars and a little piece of race track. He lines them up. He runs them down the track and back. He identifies them and carefully ponders them. His sublime concentration and diligence punctuated by the occasional crash of two vehicles flung together or the clearly distinguishable words "fast car," "big truck" or "two buses." And then, of course, that most endearing of noises, the hearty Vrrroooomm! which goes forth from the lungs with such geyser-force that it seems to rise unbidden from a wellspring of . . . well, of JOY!

The second theme of Angela's deeply reflective and thoughtful words was that of Uncertainty. We did not know what a blessing Connor's joy would be for us this year, because we could not anticipate how much we would need it. We could not know how dark these days might be. We live -- we all live! -- with the simple unmitigated uncertainty of life. In fact, it may be that such uncertainty is the essential substance of life, of a story not yet written, of a future not yet known.

For all of our theological pretensions, all our systematic theologies describing a God who has everything planned out -- an all-knowing, pre-ordaining God of meticulous control -- those who have an intuitive sense of the world around us realize that uncertainty is the order of the day. Nothing is guaranteed to us. We may suffer painful loss or stumble upon inexplicable gain. Tragedy or natural disaster or terror may steal possessions or life or loved ones from us. This is the world as we know it. And we must live in that uncertain world.

Lay aside for the moment the deep and difficult questions of what God knows, when God knows, how God knows, and if by "knowing" the future God does not also control it.

As followers of the way of Jesus, we are shaped by the story of nativity and the surprising, almost unthinkable, character trait of God revealed in that story. In Christ, the God we worship chooses to entrust God's Own Son (the very life and story of God) to the vicissitudes and uncertainties of a broken, violent world. The Author who knows the beginning from the end puts God in the middle of the story. And God becomes a subject of Creation, not simply the Creator of it. So, all the essential dangers (and delights) of a good-but-broken world are experienced by God; all the uncertainties of a story yet unwritten; all the possibilities of free-will run amok.

God joins us in our uncertainty. Why? Perhaps because that is the path to participating in our joy and because it allows us to participate in God's joy. Seriously, who wants to live in a story that's already written? Instead, God gives us the joy of uncertainty -- a story filled with pain and sorrow, to be sure. But also one filled with surprise, anticipation, delight, flavor, frivolity, and the pure human happiness of living.

What a gift is my wife! What a joy to hear her words! What joy to experience this ridiculous adventure of uncertain outcomes alongside her and in the midst of our three wonderful children. Yes, our days have been dark. And the ending may still be dark. We do not know. But what else can we do but live the adventure and delight in the gift of joy wherever it may be found.

And so we go on ... "darkly, with necks stuck out."

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"God has also set eternity in the hearts of humanity; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in their toil -- this is the gift of God." :: Ecclesiastes 3:11-13